Primrose Cecilia Mellark
by THE GIRL IN THE DRESS 127
Summary: The Hunger Games were supposed to end years ago, but the rebellion failed. Now I, Primrose Cecilia Mellark, am about to enter an arena with 23 other kids with the same living fear, turned into hope.
1. Prologue

Prologue

My daughter runs through the woods, pixelated on our small television screen, but I can still make out her trembling fingers and terrified face, much like I was twenty-two years ago. But I'm still haunted by the ghosts of tributes whose blood is in my hands, who died in my arms, who sacrificed themselves for a rebellion that failed. I am haunted by the ghosts who died in vain.

I clutch Peeta's sweaty palm as he watches with eager eyes. We both fear to see her eyes cloud over, and fear the day when Finnick, our son, will have to walk into the reaping with trembling hands.

Peeta's breaths are heavy and loud, but somehow they comfort me. He's done so much for me, and I love him. It's real, it's all real.

"Real" I whisper under my breath, quiet enough for Peeta and Finnick not to hear.


	2. Introduction

Introduction

The Hunger Games was supposed to end years ago, but the rebellion failed, and that is why I'm standing in front of an old mirror, admiring my mother's old reaping dress for when she was sixteen, like me.

I am Primrose Cecilia Mellark.


	3. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My mother's hands fiddle with my messy, brown hair, attempting to tie it in a braid. My mother has a gift for this, though. She's perfect when it comes to doing our hair.

I turn to face the mirror when it's done, admiring myself. I don't look like Primrose anymore. I look completely different, but in a good way.

I turn to her and she kisses my forehead "You won't get chosen, Prim"

I want to argue, but it's far too difficult to argue with mother- she has such a gentle voice that you can't seem to disagree with what she says.

Her grey eyes sparkle at me as she hands me a small pin. It has a mockingjay on it.

"For good luck." She smiles at me

I know she has some connection with it and when she went into the games, but she doesn't talk about the games, and we don't ask.

Finnick gallops into the room with his new toy horse; he's so small, and so innocent. Nothing should be able to take that innocence from him. He's such a sweetheart.

"I want to be in the big bowl!" he complains, not realizing what the bowl does or is.

Mother says nothing, but bites her bottom lip; I know what that means: she wants to have a private convocation with my dad. He's very good at calming her down, and he knows it.

He walks in, wearing a blue button-down shirt and black trousers, holding a newspaper and scanning through the pages before closing it and placing it, neatly in the rack, which already holds as many newspapers as it can barely hold.

Him and mother share a secret glance and he nods, reassuringly at her before turning to me

"You look so much like your mother" he says, tears welling in his eyes.

"We need to go" mother gets up and ties a shawl around her skinny, bare arms and taking hold of Finnicks hand

We walk, silently through town, squeezing in between huddled families, dreading the same fear as everyone else.

The peacekeeper takes my blood, and, just like every other year, it stings a bit, but then numbs over. I move towards my section and take a small space between Ashley Summer and Deirdre Shannon, two girls whom I know only through school.

Amelia Everheart walks onto the stage. This is the first year Effie hasn't done the reaping. I guess she's too old to do it now. Amelia clears her throat, loudly, to quieten the district.

"Shall we begin?" she chirps

She clicks a button and a movie plays, projected onto a large screen in the back, left corner of the stage. A movie I have seen for my whole life. I can recite it word for word now.

When it ends, she sighs and smiles at the audience

"Now is the time to choose one male and one female victor to enter the 98th Annual Hunger Games." She says

Her thin hand reaches into the bowl of female names and pulls out a name from the bowl. The whole district is paying close attention to her; only the sound of leaves chattering through the streets of district twelve can be heard. I long for it not to be my name, but the dreaded name parts from her lips and echoes around the town:

"PRIMROSE CECILIA MELLARK"

I look around at the expressionless faces around me. All eyes are trained on me, watching my every move, calculating my reaction.

I move through the crowd of relieved teenagers and towards the stage, where I take three steps upwards and walk across to Amelia, where she waits for me, her green eyes sparkling with too much enthusiasm.

She then steps towards the boys' bowl, where she reads out a name. I'm not listening though, because all I can hear is the sound of my blood pumping through my body, and the sound of my heart beating.

I'm sweating, and I wipe my wet hands on my dress, before shaking hands with the dark haired boy standing opposite me. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but I still catch a glimpse of his large, grey eyes.

I don't know this boy, but I realize that I don't want to kill him.

I don't want to kill anyone.

Amelia closes the ceremony with a high pitched laugh.

"That concludes our reaping for this year. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your _favour"_ she says

I guess the odds aren't exactly in my favour this time, though.


End file.
